


Casual Bullet Wounds

by Syphus



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Crimes & Criminals, Fake AH Crew, Gangs, M/M, Pre-Fake AH Crew, Robbery, he just wants chips, ray is casual as fuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-19 10:49:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10638318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syphus/pseuds/Syphus
Summary: “I walked into a convenience store while you were robbing the place and I don’t really give a shit, I just want my chips.”





	1. Chips & Diet Coke

**Author's Note:**

> i just realised i haven't posted any rooster teeth fics even though it's my current favorite fandom, so i am now fixing that dilemma
> 
> also, i may continue this. maybe. possibly. no promises.

            It was far past midnight when Ray opened the door to a gun in his face. Really, he should have known better than to take a trip to the convenience store at one in the morning, but he’d been hungry and his food supply was running alarmingly low. So, here was Ray, trying to buy a bag of chips with a gun in his face. It wasn’t working out.

            “Hey, man, how’s it going?” The pistol was being held by a tall, broad figure dressed in classic stick-up black and a black skull mask. Ray supposed that most guys would have shit their pants by now, but he had enough experience in Los Santos to know that fear wouldn’t get him anywhere.

            The black skull tilted, questioning.

            “Look, I’m just here to get some chips. You can do whatever the fuck you want.” He slid his lanky body through the gap of the man’s shoulder and the open door, then aimed his steps towards the chip aisle. Behind him, he could hear the store clerk begging and Ray assumed that the black skull had resumed his conquest. He glared down at the crappy selections then grabbed a few of whatever there was the most of. As a last minute thought, he nabbed a soda from the back and turned to slouch out of the store.

            Before he could leave, he surprised even himself by calling out, “Hey, big guy, you want anything?” Across the top of the aisles, the black skull shrugged without turning to him, pulling the trigger on the teary-eyed clerk.

            “Uh, alright, I’ll take that as a ‘whatever you get me.’” He snagged a candy bar, another soda, and more chips. When Ray returned to the front of the small store, the man had a stuffed duffel bag and the door held open. “What a gentleman,” Ray smirked. On the sidewalk, he handed the man his stolen food and drink.

The mask tilted.

“Oh, uh, I wasn’t sure what you liked so I got something sweet, something salty, and something fizzy. Like a wedding, right? I dunno if you should marry me though ‘cause I accidentally got you Diet Coke. I don’t think anyone drinks that.”

Shoulders shook as if holding in laughter. Then, the man stunned Ray. Not literally, because Ray was kind of sure that the man didn’t have a stun gun, but by saying, “Then I must be the only one who likes Diet Coke.” The warm, tongue-tying voice turned away and hopped onto a motorcycle that was occupying the sidewalk, stuffing the food into the duffel and swinging the open bag across his shoulder before speeding off into the night to the sound of nearing police sirens.


	2. Dumb Decisions & Morning Sky

If Ray was smart, he would have forgotten about the masked man the moment he stepped out of the store. But he only had enough knowledge to stay alive and his mind had decided that staying away from a mass murderer wasn’t necessary for staying alive. Because _of course_ that mask was glued to the back of his eyelids, so he did a small internet search – maybe consisting of a few hours, but who wouldn’t after surviving a robbery? – and discovered the mask’s identity: the Vagabond. Only _Ray_ would be glued to the idea of a sultry-voiced serial killer. He considered writing “masochistic” on his gravestone, but immediately realized his body would never be found if he ran into the Vagabond again.

Because that’s what his research showed. It wasn’t the killing that got to him – Ray himself was a sniper, making Death a close friend – but the brutal, sadistic methods that the man went through to accomplish his goals. In fact, Ray wasn’t sure why he’d even been robbing the store that night seeing as he could have made billions based on kill count alone. Even with the man’s rumored fetish for cows _(and how did_ that _happen?)_ and nauseating methods of torture and homicide, Ray was still stuck to the man behind the mask, one with a low voice hesitant and hoarse from disuse. He was _so_ screwed.

Rather than deal with the problem by going to his friend Michael’s for help, or even a bar for advice (because as much as he didn’t drink, the one around the corner gave him sodas and really good advice), Ray decided to find the masked man. Which led him to robbing a convenience store – a different one this time, because the last one was obviously already tapped – in the hopes that he would see the larger man. In hindsight, this was an incredibly stupid and manic idea because why the fuck would the guy show up at a convenience store at three in the morning just to say “hi” to some kid who stole food for him and- now this was just getting dumb.

The clerk in front of him shook in fear of the pistol held to her face and Ray didn’t really care. He kind of needed the money (who would pass up a bit of extra cash?), but his priority was finding the masked man who, undoubtedly, would not show up tonight because Ray was a complete idiot and didn’t think things through.

Which is why Ray jumped five feet in the air when a recognizable voice said, “Hello?” Ray turned quickly to see that _fucking black skull_ right behind him.

“ _Jesus,_ you scared the shit out of me.”

The mask tilted. “Sorry, but I’m not Jesus,” the amused voice said. Ray snorted, turning to shoot the clerk point blank and snatch the bag.

“Well, not-Jesus, you want anything before we bolt? Girl hit the panic button before I could get to her, so the police’ll be on our asses pretty soon.” The mask turned, sweeping the aisle, and Ray could hear a casual hum harmonize with his creaking leather jacket.

“I’ll get a Diet Coke. Help yourself, it’s on the house tonight.” Amused, Ray turned to the aisles and picked up a jar of Nutella and a bag of cheese balls before holding open the door for his… fr-companion? partner? Partner was a safe word. “Why, thank you,” the voice murmured as they left.

Ray glanced down the street, listening to unseen sirens speeding towards them. “As much as I hate to be a burden,” he said, stuffing their food into his duffel, because every robber has a duffel, “I was dumb and walked here, so would you mind if I hitched a ride?”

Wordless, the mask nodded and slid onto a familiar bike, roaring it to life. Ray grinned and, just a touch manic, hopped on behind him and held on tightly, duffel strap digging into his shoulder as they shot off. He’d driven motorcycles before, but the way the Vagabond drove was nothing like Ray’s own dabbling. Turns were sharp, concrete tipping towards his face, and the man in front seemed to take great joy in Ray’s yelps when he revved the engine onto the highway, back shaking from what could only be laughter. Of course, Ray wasn’t a complete freeloader and pulled out his sleek, pink pistol, turning to potshot the flashing lights that had suddenly materialized behind them. An incredibly lucky hit sent one patrol car flying and Ray whooped with euphoria as it rammed into a barrier, bursting into flames and disrupting the officers from the chase.

They kept going, flying under the stars with wind whisking their hair. If Ray squinted through his glasses, he could see the four stars that glowed over Los Santos’s light pollution, moving as they did through the night. It must have been an hour, though it only felt like a few minutes, before the Vagabond returned Ray to the city at a bus station that was mysteriously only a block away from his apartment. The sky was blanching in anticipation of the sun’s first gleam and Ray could feel himself stagger because, although he was a professional at staying up for days straight to play video games, the sudden spikes of adrenaline throughout the night were not helping him stay awake.

He turned to the man on the bike and the mask was a lot closer than he had expected, as if the morning sky had jumped down and pierced him through the mask and into his heart. Taking a deep breath to stop himself from doing something stupid, Ray took a shaky step back and pulled off the duffel bag, unzipping it to give the man his drink.

“Hey,” he started, “I don’t suppose there’s something I can call you other than ‘dark scary mask’ or ‘creepy maybe-stalker guy,’ is there?”

The mask hummed, a habitual head tilt skewing his eyes. “I don’t think I’m the only stalker, Ray.” And Ray had to flinch at the slight breach of privacy, but he couldn’t complain since he’d attempted the same research.

“Heh, yeah well, I didn’t get very far on it.” A leather gloved hand (what was this guy’s obsession with leather?) reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a sleek black business card.

“Well, Ray, I don’t know if you got so far to know that I work for a very prestigious gang in this city. I only know enough about you to want you on my side, if you don’t mind.” Ray took the card, staring down at a green spray painted duck and flipped it over to an address. “If you’d like to see more of me, that’s where I’ll be.” He stuffed the card into his purple sweatshirt’s pocket.

“That’d be nice, definitely.” Ray smirked, stepping back from the man as the bike animated with a growl.

As Ray turned to go, that voice paused him. “And Ray,” he glanced back, “my name. It’s Ryan.” And the bike tore away, tires screaming in the same exhilaration that was making Ray’s heart trip into his shoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i guess i'm continuing this then? i don't really know where i want to take this, so if you want anything, please let me know ^^
> 
> also it's past 1500 words and i never expected it to get past 500 ;u;
> 
> and thank you for the lovely kudos and comments, every words counts towards warming my heart!! < 3
> 
> Repeat Song: Shawn Mendes - Stitches


End file.
